


Source of Light

by youraveragejoke



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating might go up, Sharing a Bed, with a small twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:03:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youraveragejoke/pseuds/youraveragejoke
Summary: Hanzo wonders if perhaps he had realized it before. McCree has been a constant in his life lately, a steady presence he isn’t even ashamed to admit he’s more than a little fond of. It certainly explains how he ended up here; it had seemed natural, after having sat on his bed for hours, staring into the cold, dark abyss of insomnia, to seek out his favourite source of light, especially after he had spent almost two weeks in its constant glow.Sharing a bed trope with a small twist, some insecurities, lots of sap, and a happy ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WereKem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WereKem/gifts).



> This was spawned by a prompt from werekem on Tumblr: _McHanzo only-one-bed trope with a twist. They've worked together for a while, they're friends, they trust each other. They're on a mission, one-bed happens. No fuss made, they share it. Only they both sleep better than either of them have in ages with someone they trust at their back. Mission a success, they head back to base-- & neither can sleep. Someone gives in, shows up at the other's door one night. They're both relieved, & it becomes a regular occurrence. THEN the pining starts. :3c_

Jesse drops his duffel to the floor, gently places his holster on the desk and hangs his hat on the hook by the door. He sighs relief, thinks home at last as he starts peeling the dusty layers of clothes off. The comforting scent of his own room, the familiarity of his personal belongings all in the same, safe place, are like a balm to his soul.

Except something doesn’t quite feel right.

The mission had lasted two weeks, and gone amazingly well. He had felt giddy, almost light hearted on the trip back, but now that he’s finally back in his quarters, alone as he usually preferred to be after such a long excursion, he feels kind of… hollow. Jesse chalks it up to post-mission blues or whatever, and busies himself with washing up before bed.

  
He’s looking forward to sleeping. Over the last two weeks, he had managed to get the best sleep he’s had in, well, years probably, if he’s being honest. It was even more impressive when he thought about his initial concerns about sharing a bed with another agent. Hanzo was a good friend, a good and attractive friend, and he certainly didn’t have any reservations about being close with him. But Hanzo was not a small man, and neither was Jesse, and he had fully expected to wake at every toss or turn as they tried to navigate the space in bed. Except he didn’t end up sleeping fitfully at all. He remembers waking up after the first night feeling rested of all things, almost peaceful. He had figured maybe the trip had worn him out more than he had thought. It had happened again, to his surprise the next night; fell asleep relatively quickly, woke up the morning after. Even the third night when he had awoken in a sudden fit of anxiety, when he expected to just lie awake and wait till morning, he awoke again, startled, with their alarm the next day. Hanzo had apparently also experienced unusually sound sleep.

As Jesse towels himself off, and slips on sleep shorts, he contemplates whether the mattress had been of excellent quality or if the layout of the room had coaxed in a sense of peace. Neither had been especially remarkable, but he doesn’t dwell on it too long. His bed is beckoning at him and he happily throws himself into his sheets.

An hour passes and Jesse’s beginning to grow agitated. Though he can feel exhaustion weighing him down, he can’t seem to get comfortable. He tries sleeping on his right side instead of his back. He tries kicking the sheets off, tries taking the sleep shorts off. He tries listening to music and by the time he tries to fluff his pillow for the third time, three hours have gone by and he’s no closer to sleeping. It hits him all at once as he considers his comfort over the mission. He had felt safe. He had someone he trusted at his side and a comfortable warmth to soothe him. Someone breathing beside him, steadily creating a rhythm he could focus on, that he could match his own to.

He sits up in his bed and before he can think too hard about it, before he can chicken out of his idea, he gets up, barely remembers to retrieve his sleep shorts and a shirt, and heads for the door. He opens it and almost runs into a dragon tattoo. Hanzo looks almost as surprised as he does.

“I, uh, hey,” Jesse says.

“Oh were you heading out?” Hanzo recovers from surprise only to look nervous, if not a little uncomfortable.

“I was actually heading to yours,” Jesse says with a nervous laugh of his own, which he tries to play off as amused. It only kind of works.

“Oh. Did you need something?” Hanzo asks as though he was the one who had answered the door, instead of having been caught about to knock. He manages to recover his features into a more relaxed expression. This banter between them, at least, is familiar.

Jesse is about to speak when he suddenly decides to question his plan. Is it weird to ask someone to sleep with you, entirely platonically, because they were the source of your comfort? Is that some kind of greedy and selfish thing to ask of someone? But then he looks at Hanzo, really looks at him, notices the tired lines around his eyes and the rumpled hair which he had clearly tried to hide by tying it in a quick knot. Jesse wonders if maybe Hanzo perhaps had good reason for coming here to knock on his door at three in the morning. He sighs and takes the leap.

“Honestly, I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t help thinkin’ about how well I was sleeping while we were out in Banff, and I was wondering—“

“If perhaps the company had helped?” Hanzo finishes for him, eyes wide with relief.

Jesse can’t help the warm feeling that floods into his chest and settles there. “Yeah. Yeah, something like that. Do you wanna come in?” He steps aside, gesturing into the room.

Hanzo simply walks in, sits on the edge of the bed as if to test its firmness, which is ridiculous since all agents have the same mattress, and looks up at Jesse, expression slightly unimpressed. Jesse suddenly feels sheepish, and he isn’t even sure why.

“They do give us sheets to put on the beds you know. You’re certain you weren’t just cold?” And Hanzo’s lips tick up at the edge and his eyes sparkle with mirth and Jesse is now certain that this was a good idea.

“Don’t you sass me, or you’ll sleep on the floor,” Jesse says as he throws the floor sheets to the laundry pile and fishes a new set out from his dresser.

Hanzo helps him put the clean sheets on and despite it being close to three thirty in the morning, Jesse is feeling rather calm, light hearted and at peace. He supposes the company really does help. They tuck into bed, then, slightly closer than they had been in the safe house in Banff, but no less comfortable. They both fall asleep relatively easily after that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can Jesse sleep through all these loud thoughts Hanzo is having?

Hanzo floats back into consciousness slowly. 

He doesn’t open his eyes just yet; he can already tell it’s too bright in the room, which is unusual, but so is the light snoring he doesn’t hear so much as feel, blowing softly against his shoulder. 

There’s a glowing warmth in his chest that he has not felt in a long time: that self-satisfied feeling of having done something he was afraid to do, and of it paying off. He isn’t quite sure where it’s coming from, and as soon as that thought passes, he remembers. They had returned home from the mission, late at night, and the warmth in his chest sinks and grows slightly colder as he remembers the deep pang of sheer loneliness he had felt when he had entered his room. _But he didn’t stay in his room_. 

The two week mission spent with agent McCree had been... surprisingly pleasant. Certainly, Hanzo enjoys the other’s company; they spend plenty of time together in the practice ranges, the gym, over coffee and tea, sometimes something stronger, and he even considers them friends. But Hanzo hadn’t been sure how he would tolerate being in someone else’s presence for so long without being able to escape to his own room to relax. Even with someone he likes as much as McCree, Hanzo knows himself well enough to be apprehensive about the lack of private spaces, about how irritable he becomes when he’s socially exhausted. 

Yet the two weeks had all but flown by. Hanzo can only think of a few instances where he had started feeling anxious, fog starting to cloud his mind, the visceral impulse to find somewhere quiet and dark to retreat to gnawing at his humour. But in those moments, Hanzo now realizes, McCree had quietened, as if sensing his distress. 

Hanzo supposes he doesn’t try very hard to be subtle about it. He knows his eyes would have started shifting, looking for an exit, knows his answers would have become flat and short, knows he would have been avoiding eye contact. He also knows McCree is observant enough to have noticed, smart enough to know what it meant, but Hanzo feels warmth return in full force, buoyed by affection, as he realizes that McCree had also been considerate enough to do something about it. That McCree had _cared_ enough to do something about it.

Hanzo wonders if perhaps he hadn’t realized it before. McCree has been a constant in his life lately, a steady presence he isn’t even ashamed to admit he’s more than a little fond of. It certainly explains how he ended up here; it had seemed natural, after having sat on his bed for hours, staring into the cold, dark abyss of insomnia to seek out his favourite source of light, especially after he had spent almost two weeks in its constant glow. 

Hanzo finally cracks his eyes open, and looks to his left. McCree is still sleeping, the bright late-morning sunlight illuminating his hair like fiery whisps, his face scrunched into the pillow, his cheek flattened. When Hanzo notices himself staring for what would have been an uncomfortably long time had McCree been awake, his breath catches and he quickly turns to the ceiling instead. The jostling causes McCree to huff, but he otherwise doesn’t seem bothered. The heat he can now feel creeping up from his chest is embarrassment, he knows, but he refuses to think about its cause or its consequences. 

He breathes through his nose until he is reasonably relaxed, and allows himself to enjoy the morning’s peace for a few moments more before nature’s call demands his attention. Hanzo manages to extricate himself from the sheets and the bed without further disturbing McCree, and tip toes to the washroom. 

Once he reemerges, relieved, he stalls just inside the room. During the last two weeks, they usually awoke around the same time to keep up with their scouting schedule. After that, they would have left the safehouse together to begin their day’s tasks. When Hanzo had thought of the benefits of sharing a bed with McCree last night, he had not considered what the next morning might bring. Hanzo knows this entire transaction had been mutually beneficial and entirely platonic, but somehow, the idea of leaving before McCree wakes up leaves him with the same sort of dread as an especially awkward walk of shame.

Hanzo considers the alternative–hanging out in McCree’s room until he awoke, possibly embarrassing himself over having waited for him even though it might not be welcome–and promptly decides that leaving is the better option. He will surely see him at breakfast in a few hours, and he desperately wants a shower and fresh clothes, anyways.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo makes poor fashion choices, is judged for it, and fails to watch his flank. Also, he is a dumbass.  
> And of course, many thanks to [mataglap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mataglap/pseuds/mataglap) for reviewing my work for me. It means a lot to have such a good pair of eyes helping me out <3

Hanzo steps out of the shower and heaves a sigh. 

Now that there’s daylight and he’s clean, the entire situation of the night before leaves him feeling strange. He cannot deny how comfortable the experience had been and he thinks he understands why; he’s certain he’s read somewhere that sleeping near someone you trust makes you happier or something. But he’s a grown man, and he has survived this long without depending on anyone else. What will he do when McCree inevitably leaves for a mission, or he himself gets shipped out? Will he suffer sleepless nights because he’s let himself get too comfortable, too used to a luxury he isn’t even sure he deserves? _Will he even be welcome again?_

No. No, this arrangement, though pleasant, is childish and it needs to end. Hanzo will have to deal with the insomnia alone, as he always had, and he will live. 

That settled, Hanzo drops the towel on the floor and sets about getting dressed. There are light drills scheduled in the afternoon, but Hanzo realises too late that he hasn’t yet washed his two pairs of athletic pants. They are still folded in his travel bag, and probably reek something foul. Resigned, Hanzo fishes for a pair of shorts to wear, despite the mild chill. He throws on a hoodie in an attempt to conserve some heat, and lets himself regret the decision only briefly. He has worn more ridiculous things in his lifetime. 

Judging the contents of the travel bag and what little he hadn’t washed before leaving, Hanzo figures he has time to throw a load into the washer before breakfast. He collects the scattered clothes, the towel he threw on the floor, upends the contents of his bag into a hamper, and carries it all out.

* * *

He hears McCree before he sees him. Hanzo is just about to finish loading the machine when the whistling reaches him. It’s a cheesy tune, and the familiarity of it makes him chuckle. McCree had whistled this and similar things throughout the mission, during their stakeouts and down time. Hanzo knows McCree’s taste in, ah, classics is rivaled only by Reinhardt’s, but McCree’s favourites at least have a bit more class to them. 

Hanzo didn’t mind the whistling then, and he certainly shouldn’t mind it now, but he finds himself feeling strangely trapped by its warning of the cowboy’s impending arrival. Something in him insists he avoid McCree, however absurd that is, but his laundry is clearly ready to go, and McCree would know what happened the moment he sees it. Before he can do more than put the detergent down, McCree turns the corner into the room. He’s got his own hamper with the clothes he had with him on the mission, and the sheets from last night. 

“Oh, hey,” McCree greets him, smile a little tight, but otherwise as pleasant and jovial as his greetings normally went. “This where you ran off to?”

“Yes. And a shower,” Hanzo replies elegantly. 

“Hm. Clearly needed to do the laundry, if you’ve gotta run around like that,” McCree says, chuckling, and again, Hanzo has the distinct impression that there is something a little off about it. 

“That’s rich, coming from the man who dresses in cowboy attire on regular occasions,” Hanzo says, because he doesn’t know what to make of this tension, and this give-and-take feels natural at least. Why _does_ this feel tense? It’s not like Hanzo settled on avoiding McCree all together; he simply decided to stop depending on him like some kind of lost child. This _should_ be business as usual. 

McCree raises his eyebrows in mock offense, oblivious to Hanzo’s unexpected turmoil, and upends his hamper in the machine. “Well excuse me,” he says, drawing out the ‘u’. “Didn’t realize my aesthetic offended you so much.” 

“It really doesn’t,” Hanzo starts, but the sheer truth and sincerity of the statement give him pause and he reels back a little. It _really_ doesn’t. “...suit every occasion,” he tries instead, and for good measure, he adds, “you should consider acquiring more casual wear. You might just blend in with the locals more.” 

McCree gives him a strange look, but blessedly doesn’t comment on his strange stumbling. Instead, he closes the lid, starts the washer and leans his hip against it. “I’d ask you for some fashion advice but,” McCree says, gesturing at Hanzo’s current look with a raised eyebrow and a wave, “I think we’d be witnessing some kind of hypocrisy.” 

Hanzo feels like he should try to fight that one, if only for the appearance of having any pride, but he finds himself too deeply amused. With a look down at himself for effect, he chuckles. 

“Touché, I suppose,” he says, shrugging. “Let’s take this truce to breakfast, then. I expect Reinhardt has finished preparing and we still have time to beat the line.” 

* * *

By lunch, Hanzo and McCree have found their rhythm again, and it’s as though this morning’s awkward start hadn’t happened at all. They finish their laundry, arguing about the authenticity of costumes in some recent film and it is only the buzzer indicating dry, fresh clothes that interrupts them. With their clothes folded and their argument decidedly unsettled, they part ways to prepare for the drills. 

Today’s exercises revolve around new team strategies. Morrison and Winston want to attempt a heavier concentration of damage from sniper fire, now that the young and brilliant Brigitte has joined their ranks with her shield. With Reinhardt, Brigitte and Zarya on the ground keeping most of the attention on themselves, and taking minimal damage, Hanzo and Ana are free to open fire on their enemies relatively undisturbed. McCree is added to the lineup to provide support in case of flankers.

The drills are all relatively short, no more than five or ten minutes, but undoubtedly intense. The scenarios vary between vehicle escorts, VIP protection, area control and, finally, a battle-royale type where the rest of the team play for points against them. 

During this exercise, Hanzo overestimates his safety. The loud trio are off chasing poor Lucio and Hana, who had the gall to challenge them all, and Hanzo, focusing on their little game of tag, relocates to the ground to keep track of them. He’s looking for the opportunity to strike down anyone who would dare try and help them, when he hears the distinct sound of air rushing out of ventilation ports. He knows Genji lets him hear it, that he’s being taunted for having let his guard down and is in the process of cursing himself when he sees a flash of red, followed by the bright light of McCree’s flash grenades. Genji, stunned, is immediately killed with a single, elegant headshot. 

“Woooh, got ‘em,” Jesse teases, pretending to blow the smoke off his training gun. 

“Two against one is not a fair fight, McCree. You are not allowed to gloat,” Genji says, and he sounds like he wants to be upset, but he has never been a bad sport and amusement overtakes his voice. 

“Neither is sneakin’ up on a fella,” McCree says, shrugging lightly. 

Before Genji can retaliate, he is teleported out of the arena, and Athena announces the updated score. 

“Thank you. I was too preoccupied to watch my flank. It will not happen again,” Hanzo says, and only just manages to keep the irritation out of his voice. It’s not McCree’s fault that Hanzo had failed, and he certainly does not deserve his temper. 

“It’s what I’m here for, sweetheart,” McCree says, voice like honey, before tipping his hat with a wink. And with that, he rushes off to assist Brigitte, who is herself being flanked by both Hana and Lena. 

If Hanzo is slow to return to his senses, to help pick Lena off just as she has run out of charge to use her blink ability, he will blame it on the frustration, or perhaps say he had been waiting for the perfect moment to strike. But Hanzo knows that it’s something else. He can still feel the heat in his cheeks, the strange constriction in his chest, even by the end of the exercise. The score makes it clear that the sniper-enabled composition works very well, but Hanzo is too busy mulling over that strange reaction to pay it too much attention. 

By the time the sun begins to set, the agents are finally released from the drills. When will Hanzo learn that ‘light drills’ for Jack Morrison are nothing short of torture? He’s only thankful that he’s kept such a rigorous training regimen outside of official exercises; he managed to make it out only slightly out of breath, but definitely does not regret the shorts anymore. 

Hanzo trudges over to the locker rooms to shower and change. He was in a relatively good mood all day, but suddenly, his spirits fall a little. He remembers that tonight, he is to return to his room, for the first time in over two weeks. He tries to reason with himself, that there is no reason to be upset; after all, he is only doing what needs to be done. Besides, he has slept in that same room since he had arrived at the Watchpoint over a year ago. This should not be a problem. And yet… 

And yet, Hanzo cannot deny the heaviness in his chest, the way his humour darkens, the way he drags his feet as he makes his way through the Watchoint halls. The way he has to resist, with a surprising amount of willpower, stopping eight doors too soon. Once in his room, Hanzo dims, and eventually turns off the lights, not bothering to put the clothes he had dropped off earlier away. He suspects he will need something to do in several hours. 

The sun sets, and his room is finally, _finally_ plunged in darkness. Hanzo lies on his bed and waits for morning to arrive.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanzo believes some bullshit, Genji dispels that quickly, an important meeting is had and some concerning information is discovered about one of Alberta's three Wilderness Areas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, HUGE thank you to [mataglap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mataglap/pseuds/mataglap) for taking the time to make sure this doesn't come out baked with mistakes. Thank you for helping me wrangle the words, and for reminding me to stop using so many commas.

He must have fallen asleep at some point. Hanzo blearily opens his eyes and after blinking up at the ceiling for what must have been several minutes, he lets out a defeated groan and checks the time; only a quarter to six. He didn’t get around to putting his laundry away last night, preoccupied as he was by the thoughts that haunted him. He rises to sit, but does not leave his bed yet. The strange constriction in his chest from the day before has evolved into a full blown ache, almost painful enough to make it hard to breath.

 

Hanzo rubs at it and sighs. He supposes it was cold enough in Banff and thinks maybe he caught something, forced as he is to wear light armour. He’s certain it will pass, and takes a moment to breathe through a bit of the ache. He looks back at his empty—why is _that_ a descriptor that comes to mind—bed, intending to start pulling some of the sheets back into place, but the ache suddenly worsens. Frustrated, he stands without fixing the sheets, opting instead for a shower. He was cleared as perfectly healthy when he was examined upon returning, but it wouldn’t hurt to make sure. Hanzo resolves to pay the medical wing a visit at some point later today.

 

When he returns to his room, clean and feeling slightly better, the first thing he notices is his comm flashing. He checks the time again, a little past six thirty, and reads the message.

 

Meeting: 11am, board room 4. Please confirm availability. Subject: Follow up on post-mission debrief for Banff data analysis.

 

Hanzo can’t help an annoyed grunt. That was quick. Usually meetings about mission debriefs are held at least weeks later, after Winston, Commander Amari and Commander Morrison have had time to deliberate over the data and argue about the best course of action. Whatever Hanzo and McCree found and returned must have sparked an urgent response. Hanzo punches in his confirmation, surprised to see that McCree has already sent his in about five minutes prior. Dr Zhou is also on the list, and, less surprisingly, his comm alerts him of her confirmation shortly after.

 

Hanzo decides that it’s too early yet to head to the hall for breakfast and, in a bid to pass the time, he finally puts his clothes away. Of course, this doesn’t take more than five minutes and Hanzo is left standing around with nothing to do again, and a head buzzing with exhaustion and frustration.

 

Desperate to keep his thoughts at bay, Hanzo heads out for the cliffs. The day is dark, cloudy and a little windy; he can smell a storm coming and feels static in the air, amplified by the dragons’ influence. It sends a pleasant tingle up his arm and through his chest. Hanzo instantly feels more at peace, here in his element, and he takes in a deep breath before lowering his stance. He goes through several sets of kata, emptying his mind, focusing only on his movements, on the strength needed for each action, on maintaining his balance. It is easier to breathe out here, where the air is crisp and slightly salty. It is easy to ignore the ache in his chest, the way he definitely didn’t wake up disappointed to be alone, the way he didn’t miss McCree’s sleepy smiles this morning, the way he doesn’t crave his warmth and comfort...

 

By the time the first rumble of thunder reaches him, accompanied by the light pattering of rain that precedes a storm, he is worn out, not as relaxed as he’d hoped, and definitely very hungry. It’s a more decent hour for breakfast now, so he slowly makes his way back to his room to wash up a bit, stubbornly leaving his train of thought behind. Whatever the hell that was all about, it can wait for contemplation. Right now, he has to focus on the meeting coming.

 

He recalls the mission details, as he sets about making himself a light breakfast, brief and vague as they were: ‘Survey the canyons of Ghost River for suspicious activity. Suspected terrorist base under construction. Discover motive if convenient.’ Hanzo discovered what looked like subtle clearing; a felled tree here and there, too conspicuous to be done naturally, but too irregular to seem suspicious to casual hikers. Further down into the canyon, McCree found signs of mining, again, subtle enough to fool any who weren’t looking for it. Whatever these people were up to, and McCree and Hanzo strongly suspected Talon activity, they were going through a lot of trouble to go unnoticed. Vehicles weren’t allowed this far out, and neither was development, but it was clear to the pair that something suspicious was happening. They even found several boot prints off the beaten trails, took samples of the sediments and brought them back. They weren’t certain at the time that such samples would be useful, but perhaps they revealed something after all. Hanzo tries to guess at what information would warrant such an urgent response when his brother peers over his shoulder.

 

“Ah, eggs and rice. A classic,” Genji says lightly, reaching over to grab the scooper that rests next to the rice cooker.

 

Hanzo snorts and doesn’t bother replying. Genji is either trying to get a rise out of him, or he’s trying to get something from him. Either way, there’s about to be trouble and Hanzo braces himself for it. A beat or two of silence while Genji fills his own bowl with the leftover rice and Genji hums.

 

“So,” he says, as though that should mean anything.

 

“So,” Hanzo repeats flatly, after another short stretch of silence.

 

“So… how have you been, Hanzo?” Genji asks, too innocently. “You seem to be settling alright.”

 

“Genji, I've been here over a year. Of course I’ve settled. I didn’t even have boxes to unpack, and—”

 

“You know I don’t mean _that_ , Hanzo,” Genji says, and the lightness of his tone evaporates, replaced by what Hanzo can only describe as exasperation. Genji seems to hesitate a little before continuing, as though he’s choosing his next words carefully. This behaviour is so different from what Hanzo somehow still expects of him that whatever frustration started bubbling inside him quickly fades into cold guilt and a sense of defeat. “You’re here. You come to most breakfasts, you play fair in sims, you look out for the team, you’re making friends,” and here Genji sort of waves the scooper around as though he means to encompass everything he’s just said. “You’re doing well. I don’t fear I’ll wake up one morning to find that you have gone missing in the night.”

 

Hanzo is silent for a long time, staring into his rice as he grapples with his response. It was anger at first, suddenly flaring up again, bright, hot, and indignant. He knows Genji doesn’t mean to be patronizing, but his pride still gets the best of him. But the more Genji went on, the more he sounded vulnerable, and finally, the guilt rose again. Hanzo is surprised to find that fondness also flickers there, and he realizes that it must be hard for his brother to open up to him like this. He deflates quickly, and just before he can get a response out, the Genji he remembers finally makes an appearance.

 

“And you’ve got… whatever that is going on between you and McCree.” Genji waves his hands cryptically again, but his meaning is clear enough.

 

“Excuse me?” Hanzo can feel his cheeks get hot, but he refuses to break eye contact.

 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice the way he looks at you. Or the way _you_ look at him. Or the way you snuck out of his room yesterday morning. Or how he was instantly at your side when he should have been defending the healer during yesterday’s sim.”

 

Hanzo’s eyes grow wide before he narrows them at Genji, and he is torn between embarrassment and irritation. It occurs to him that this might just be Genji getting a jab at Hanzo about having lost to him and McCree during the sim, but Hanzo’s focus is on one thing. Of course his brother would misinterpret that. _Of course_ . It was such a _stupid_ idea to have gone and slept in McCree’s room. He hadn’t even tried to be careful about being seen, either. He really should have been. “That wasn’t what you think,” he finally protests, and for some reason, even he can’t deny how unconvincing that sounds. _But it really wasn’t!_

 

“Hanzo. Look me in the eyes and tell me there is nothing going on between you and McCree and I’ll drop it,” Genji says flatly.

 

Hanzo does look him in the eye, does open his mouth to speak, but somehow, he doesn’t think there are words which will convince him. He is certainly not ready to tell his brother about the nightmares, the late nights of guilt and misery, the drinking. He is definitely not ready to tell his brother that sleeping next to his best friend helps to soothe some of that. Instead, he looks down his nose at him and sneers. “It is none of your concern, either way.”

 

Genji’s eyes light up with amusement. “That’s what I thought. I should warn you that if you hurt McCree’s feelings, I will come for you. You may be my brother, but he is my best friend and he deserves to be treated right. Do not mess this up, Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo bares his teeth at Genji in a snarl, and Genji grabs the two bowls of rice he was preparing and rushes out of the kitchen, taking his shit eating grin out with him.

 

* * *

 

The conversation leaves Hanzo disoriented for the rest of the morning. There’s a nagging feeling he can’t get rid of, one that reminds him eerily of the ache in his chest, and it’s telling him Genji wasn’t really wrong in his assessment. Hanzo considers it, briefly and somewhat begrudgingly, marching on with purpose through the dark hall on his way to the meeting: _something_ between him and McCree. His initial reaction is to recoil and turn away and reject the thought, embarrassed to be indulging in such frivolous and selfish behaviour, but he is pulled back into it when he starts to feel _warmth_ emanating from his chest, alongside that insistent ache. He basks in it for a moment, and then pushes a little further. McCree looking at him the way he does when Hanzo makes him laugh, soft and fond. The warmth grows, the ache changing into something sweeter. He imagines holding McCree in his arms, being wrapped up in his scent, his heat. His breath hitches. He pushes a little further still, and Hanzo imagines kissing McCree, running his tongue over his lips, probably chapped from all the sun. He immediately feels his cheeks warm, feels slightly lightheaded with how much he _wants it_.

 

His daydream comes to a screeching halt when he realizes he’s arrived at board room 4. Winston, Commander Amari, Commander Morrison, Dr. Zhou and McCree are already inside. The atmosphere is obviously serious, and Hanzo has to pause for a moment at the door to collect himself before scanning himself in. He’s momentarily blinded by the brightness in the room compared to the darkness of the hall, but he adjusts quickly enough as he steps inside.

 

“Ah, Agent Shimada. Excellent, we can get started early then,” Winston says in his passive, but kind voice.

 

“Certainly. What calls for this urgency?” Hanzo asks as he settles himself between McCree and Dr. Zhou, all hints at his recent train of thought gone. He hopes.  

 

“We believe, and this is just a hypothesis, we’re not certain yet,” Dr. Zhou says, adjusting her glasses, “but we’ve confirmed that some of the soil you’ve collected contained traces of decaying matter...”

 

“That ain’t so unusual, one would think?” McCree says, but he sounds wary, almost like he knows the answer, and hopes he’s wrong. Hanzo believes he knows too. But it’s just a hypothesis.

 

“The decaying matter was definitely human. And it was in a constant state of regeneration according to Dr. Ziegler’s analysis,” Dr Zhou says more confidently, as though being challenged stoked her courage. “We are led to believe the traces confirm the presence of the Talon mercenary known as The Reaper, and should this hypothesis be correct, that Talon’s influence in the area is already significantly stronger than we originally suspected.”

 

McCree swears under his breath, but otherwise doesn’t break his composure.

 

“What else? We wouldn’t be here if you just wanted to talk about The Reaper’s new fascination with camping,” McCree says.

 

“The other soil samples revealed some concerning data, but it's incomplete,” Dr. Zhou says, almost sheepish again, but stubbornly pressing on. “I have requested to be stationed there in order to analyze larger sample sizes. I…” she trails off and looks to Commander Amari as though for permission. Commander Amari nods.

 

“I don’t have enough data to really say for sure,” Dr. Zhou continues, “but I fear there might be something being injected into the water. The strongest concentration of it that I could find was always in samples you’ve labeled as being close to the river, but it’s hard to say for certain with so little data. It could really just be a spill or—” she cuts herself off, and apologizes under her breath, as though she has reached her limit of confidence. “I want to check to make sure.”

 

Captain Amari picks up the thread easily enough. “We’d like to help Dr. Zhou obtain more data. With Talon activity practically confirmed in the area, however, we cannot let her go without support. We’re sending a small team out with her, and we need you two on it. You already have a good grasp on the location, and you’re both capable of stealth. Jack will join you, and I’ll be the last member of the operation.”

 

“I see. When are we heading out?” Hanzo asks.

 

“Tomorrow morning.”

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the plot thickens.  
> Thanks to [mataglap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mataglap/pseuds/mataglap) for being the tense police i need in life.

Hanzo takes a deep breath, appreciating the clean, crisp air, stifles his third yawn this minute. It’s a perfect day for a hike; the morning is bright, with wisp-like clouds lazily making their way through the sky. A light breeze picks up every now and again, funneled and amplified through the canyon, but slightly buffeted by the trees along the trail. 

 

Hanzo picks his way up the path carefully, avoiding loose gravel and keeping an eye out for any more developments with the lumbering or mining along the way. Morrison and McCree are following easily enough, holding a conversation about their fictional bureaucratic jobs which Hanzo dutifully contributes to every now and again. There’s another group of tourists a few minutes ahead, and McCree is nothing but thorough about making sure they pass as boring businessmen on vacation. Zhou and Amari should be no more than fifteen or twenty minutes behind them, furtively collecting samples of soil and flora. 

 

It’s a perfect day for a hike, and Hanzo couldn't care less about it. The conversation is absolute horseshit; Morrisson is going on about how Karen stole his pasta one day, and McCree jovially adds that he found out she also stole  _ his _ lunch once, because he’d made it hot enough to deter even the bravest of souls and had found Karen desperately drinking the office’s supply of coffee creamers in the aftermath. Hanzo couldn’t care less about that too. Hanzo is trying  _ very _ hard to care about the mission, though, if only because it’s the last thing he can latch his attention to which isn’t McCree. 

 

There was no time at all to think about it after the meeting, the packing and the early departure, the drive from Calgary to Banff, the setup and mission plan runthrough. But now, on this beautiful day, hiking the trails along Ghost River, with McCree’s good natured chattering in the background, Hanzo has nothing  _ but _ time to think about it. 

 

It was surprisingly easy for Hanzo to let himself want McCree after the realization dawned on him; he didn’t really notice how much he already  _ had _ been wanting him until Genji’s teasing in the kitchen. He wishes knowing would at least provide him with some sort of comfort, but now that he's been made aware, he has no idea what to do with the information. Sure, he knows he can flirt his way into anyone’s pants if he really wants to, but this is different. He’s  _ pining _ , for fuck’s sake.

 

He’s keenly aware he won’t be satisfied with just a quickie in a supply closet, though that thought certainly has some appeal to it too. In the short amount of time they’d been bunking together for the mission, he managed to get used to McCree being there, basking in his warmth and the reassuring comfort of safety, so much so that sleeping without McCree at his side has become difficult and unpleasant. And if this doesn’t scare him, the realization of how deeply invested he already is, the way the feelings have silently settled comfortably into his heart over time, constantly turning his consciousness in McCree’s direction, then the possibility of screwing this up somehow absolutely terrifies him. 

 

Because Hanzo knows how to bed someone, that’s easy, but Hanzo has no idea how to properly court someone. And realizing how much McCree means to him, how important it is to him to do this right, makes him painfully aware of how high the stakes are. 

 

Hanzo’s about to go through an eighteenth iteration of the conversation he imagines himself having with McCree about it, all of the ways he could possibly say the wrong thing, or draw the wrong conclusions, or come on too strong, or not come on strong enough, or any one of the other ways he can mess this up, when Morrison slows and heaves an exaggerated sigh. 

 

“Why don’t we break here for lunch?” Morrison says, making a show of assessing their whereabouts. “Seems to be a nice area.”

 

And it's true enough. They’ve just passed a narrow waterfall, and come across a view of the canyon as it bends around the corner, rich conifers lining its edges. With the snowy mountaintops visible in the distance and the soft sound of the waterfall just behind them, it's quite the soothing place to rest at. Morrison finds a boulder with a flat surface they can use as a makeshift table, and the three of them settle down to eat lunch. 

 

This part of the plan is open to errors. Should Zhou and Amari be on schedule, the duo will ‘catch up’ to them, and they will share a friendly tourist-to-tourist chat about the region. It will be an opportunity to make changes to the plan they had established this morning, based on data Dr. Zhou has collected over the course of the trip. Hanzo hasn’t noticed any huge differences in the landscape since their last visit, and judging by McCree’s relaxed attitude, neither has he. He hopes the other two have better luck with it. 

 

* * *

 

By the time they hear someone come around the corner, Hanzo is finishing his lunch and McCree and Morrison are just done packing up. The tourists ahead of them are far out of potential earshot by now, and Amari informs them that there was no one behind them, either. 

 

Zhou produces her field-lab along with her own lunch, and Amari sits slightly away, casually keeping watch for newcomers. 

 

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Zhou mumbles without preamble. She’s fiddling with the dials on her field-lab, eyes flitting across the data printing on the holoscreen. “The waterways are definitely contaminated, but it’s not enough to seriously affect any of the nearby flora or fauna…” 

 

“What if it was just an accidental spill?” Morrison asks. 

 

“Hmm... No, accidental spills would be more destructive than this. This,” Dr. Zhou waves vaguely at her holoscreen, “doesn’t occur by accident. This is  _ too _ perfect. Perfectly detectable, but perfectly contained.” 

 

“So it’s detectable, but not dangerous,” Hanzo offers. “What’s the point of that?”

 

The team sit around Dr. Zhou and her field-lab in silence for long moments, contemplating.

 

“Attention,” McCree finally says. 

 

Everyone turns to McCree, eyes wide. 

 

“Attention?” Morrison says. 

 

McCree takes a second to chew on his toothpick while he sorts his thoughts out. “This place, it’s a national park or something?” 

 

“A wilderness area,” Zhou corrects. “It has more ecological protection than a provincial park. Development and motorized vehicles are prohibited. Humans aren’t allowed to tamper with nature at all here.” 

 

“So there are people looking out for it then, payin’ attention?” 

 

“There would be a board of members on the provincial council to keep an eye on it. Locals from either Canmore or Banff also have an interest in preserving the Ghost River area,” Mei says, eyes flitting from McCree to her data. “They would… notice the river’s contamination and report it to the council. But why would Talon want to attract the attention of conservationists?”

 

“It’s a distraction. They’re up to something, and they want to make sure everyone’s attention is somewhere else. I have a feelin’ the water’s just step one of some bigger plan.” 

 

“So we still don’t know what they’re up to,” Morrison grouses.  

 

“But we know they don’t actually intend to damage the ecosystem,” Hanzo points out, looking over Zhou’s shoulder to examine the data. He barely understands it, doesn’t recognize the chemical composition of the contaminant at all, but the field-lab’s screen doesn’t report anything in the ‘harmful to’ categories. “They still must have a use for the natural resources here.”

 

“We should head back into town,” Amari suggests, “and learn what might be of value here. Do you need more field data, Dr. Zhou?” 

 

“No, this is enough for now. I’d like to spend more time analysing this sample to make really sure it’s not a danger to the environment.” 

 

“Then let’s pack this up and head back,” McCree says. “I’d like to do some sniffing around.” 

 

* * *

 

The trek back is quick and quiet as everyone contemplates the information. The two groups split off into their respective rented vehicles when they reach the end of the conservation area, and the drive back is pretty quiet too. Hanzo is loath to break the silence, but his thoughts are circling again, so he tries for conversation. 

 

“Where do you intend to sniff around?” he asks McCree, eyeing him through the rear-view. He’s surprised to find that McCree was already looking at him pretty intently for a guy who’s supposed to be driving, and he quickly diverts his eyes back to the scenery, feigning lookout.

 

“Saw posters for some sort of nature book club on the way in. Thought I’d stop by and see what all the buzz is about,” McCree says, eyes back ahead. He stays quiet a moment, seemingly focused on the road, and then he flashes a quick smile at Hanzo through the mirror. “Could use a date if you’re willing.” 

 

Morrison grunts, but doesn’t say anything, and Hanzo makes a face he isn’t quite sure hides his surprise. He wonders for a brief moment if that comment would have had the same effect on him before he spent the last day and a half nursing this embarrassingly huge crush, if he would have wondered about its meaning more, and then feels deeply foolish for thinking it. He tries to recover, tries to think of something funny to retort with, but he can’t help but feel he’d give himself away. He goes for practical instead. 

 

“It’s probably wisest to stay in pairs anyway. Talon might have their own milling about in these groups if they’re trying to influence them.”

 

McCree gives him a grin in the mirror before turning back to the road again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys have to appreciate how hard it was for me to resist writing "the plot chickens" up there ok.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jesse's turn to pine, Hanzo throws the ball into his court, and Jesse deals with it the best way he knows how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> skghsa I'm an IDIOT, and i forgot to thank mataglap for having my back.

Jesse focuses hard on the road, feigning nonchalance to the best of his ability. He isn't sure what wild gust of courage caused him to ask Hanzo to accompany him the way he had, but he can’t say he regrets it. Not after the face Hanzo made and then promptly tried to hide. Not after he struggled to come up with a response, which Jesse’s hopeful heart insists was because Hanzo sensed the weight of it. Not after he said yes. Well, Jesse might regret that Jack was there at all, but he’s not going to let that kill his buzz.

The question wasn’t even all that out of the ordinary, he muses. It was something he might have asked Lena or Genji. But what surprised him, as he felt the words fly out of his mouth, a little out of his control, was how important Hanzo’s answer would be to him. He managed to pass it off as his typical brand of casual flirting, something he and Hanzo engaged in plenty; none of this was new. But the way his heart trembled a little in the moment of silence that followed betrayed how serious the supposedly innocuous question was for him.

Jesse pulls into the parking lot of their tourist motel, and slides out to fetch their bags from the back. Hanzo has the same idea, pulling his own and Jack’s luggage out, while Jack heads over to the office to check them in.

“Where is this book club meeting?” Hanzo asks, eyes intent on his own luggage.

“Local library, couple of blocks up. We can walk, won’t take long. Doesn’t start ‘till evening though.”

Hanzo hums in response, fiddling with a loose thread on his bag. He looks up, then, face set very seriously. “Will you be taking me out to supper first, then?” he asks straight-faced, but with eyes shining bright with amusement.

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t, sweetheart,” Jesse drawls.

“I expect nothing less,” Hanzo snarks, using that haughty air of his to look down at Jesse despite being several inches shorter.

A small part of Jesse is relieved about the light banter. The strangely serious air caused by his surprisingly honest flirting earlier had been weighing heavily on him. But another, increasingly louder part of him wishes it was all honest instead. Ever since they returned from their first trip to Banff, Jesse hasn’t been able to stop the growing crush from blossoming even if he wanted to. Waking up that first morning back to find Hanzo gone did really strange and really unpleasant things to his heart, and it only took him one quick and cold shower to figure out what all that meant. But then Hanzo didn’t come back the next night and Jesse’s heart screamed bloody murder.

The minute they get back home from this mission, Jesse is going to invite Hanzo up to the roof, get a little buzzed together and then get all this off his chest, if only for his own peace of mind. If Hanzo’s game, they can try this whole relationship thing out. If Hanzo isn’t, well. At least the booze will already be on hand. He tries not to think about that.

Jack finally comes back with the keys to their rooms and hands them each their set. They’re all adjacent to one another, with Hanzo in the middle room.

“I’ll come around to pick you up at four,” Jesse says, just before Hanzo walks into his room.

“Don’t be late,” he hears Hanzo say, challenge clear in his tone, and it has Jesse grinning to himself by the time he’s setting his bag down on the chair.

He beelines for the washroom after that, and then spends the next half hour examining the room. The place is nice enough, clean but clearly older, and not necessarily in a charming way. The wood panelling on the walls tries for comfort, but comes off as a bit gaudy instead, and the  carpet has seen enough wear to be nearly bare where the furniture rests. It’s a bit hard to tell whether the room is maintained as such to preserve some sort of ancient aesthetic, or if it simply hasn’t been updated in the hundred years since it was in style. Jesse suspects it’s a mix of both when he realizes that the television is in fact a holoscreen fashioned to look like an old cathode ray tube model. Well, if it ain’t broke, he supposes.

He suspects the walls of being thin, despite not hearing Hanzo on the other side—Jesse would honestly be more surprised if he _could_ hear him, given his tendency to creep around even in his own quarters—and is proven right when he hears the shower start as clearly as if it were in his own washroom. For a few minutes, it’s just the sound of splashing in the tub, and Jesse takes note that the water must take a while to warm up for when he’s ready to shower. He’s busy giving the room a final sweep, paying particular attention to the AC unit on the wall, when he hears an interruption in the flow of water as its occupant steps in. Its naked occupant, his brain supplies.

Jesse feels such an immediate flash of heat at the thought that he almost forgets how to breathe. Unbidden, images of Hanzo right behind the wall, naked, warm and wet, start flooding his imagination and it’s all Jesse can do to feel at least a little bad for entertaining such thoughts about a coworker. He’s about to try and distract himself with some reading, maybe some research about local conservation efforts, anything to keep himself busy, when he hears the unmistakable sound of Hanzo emitting a low groan from behind the wall. It’s quiet enough that Jesse isn’t actually sure if he was meant to hear it, but his dick doesn’t seem to care either way. The thought that Hanzo might have wanted him to hear it only contributes to the problem that’s developing in his pants; there’s no way Hanzo doesn’t know how thin the walls are. With a grunt of his own, Jesse gives up and stomps into his own washroom, starts running the water in the shower with short, frustrated movements. He doesn’t wait for it to warm up before stepping in.

Unfortunately, the water doesn’t stay cold nearly long enough to be effective, and Jesse’s left with a boner he isn’t sure what to do with. On the one hand, he could try willing it away; it’s probably best not to go there when he’s about to spend so much time with Hanzo over the next few days. But on the other hand, Jesse’s imagination continues to supply him with really hard to resist imagery, and he’s only a simple man. In the end, he reaches for his cock with a frustrated groan, intending to make quick work of it. It doesn’t take him long before he’s nearly done, when suddenly, his mind stops creating potential scenarios—Hanzo on his knees in front of him, looking up at him through his lashes, Hanzo above him, face buried in his neck, breath warm and damp, Hanzo inside him, broad chest vibrating with a deep, satisfied sound—and offers him a specific memory, instead. Hanzo lit in electric blue, a single bright spot on a dark and rainy night months ago, unleashing the dragons to sow chaos on the battlefield. Hanzo had run in after them, hardly slowed at all by the treacherous terrain, picking off whoever was fortunate enough to have avoided the dragons’ cruel maws. By the time Jesse arrived to help, there was nothing left for him to do, and Hanzo breathed only a little harder despite the obvious exertion. The lightning in his eyes, the strong set of his shoulders, the way his jaw worked, that same aura of intimidating confidence he always wore in combat, he turned it all towards Jesse in that moment to acknowledge his presence. And that’s what finally does Jesse in; forehead resting on his arm, leaning hard into the tiled wall, hand working his cock in quick, jerky movements, he comes with a whole body shudder, heart racing in his chest.

Jesse doesn’t do anything but breathe for a while after that, too stunned by the force of his orgasm to move just yet. All that just from Hanzo jumping into the shower; that really wasn’t fair at all. He does take a little bit of satisfaction in realizing that he didn’t quite manage to contain a groan when he came, and that Hanzo would have _definitely_ heard it. Good thing he’s got the end suite, he muses. He showers slowly after that, thoughts occupied by anything he can grasp at to try and reset, make sure he can look Hanzo in the eye after this without dragging him back to his room to confess. And maybe fuck after, hear what Hanzo’s moans are like when Jesse’s the reason he can’t hold them in anymore.

...Right, conservation efforts in the area.

By the time Jesse steps out of the shower and towels himself off, he’s got a pretty solid plan for what he’d like to accomplish with tonight’s investigations, and about two hours left before he needs to head out. He fires a text off to Mei to ask about a few last minute details from her research today, and spreads out on the bed to await her response. His phone buzzing on the table beside him mere moments after startles him out of a daze. That’s a lot less time than Mei usually takes to formulate the kind of response he was expecting and he reaches for his phone, curious. He feels his cheeks flush hot with mild embarrassment when he sees the message.

 

**Hanzo Shimada 14:09**

> Did you hurt yourself in the shower?

 

Jesse stares at the screen for a long, long time, unsure about where he wants to take this. He’d been at least somewhat confident with the flirting when he’d initiated it, but now that the ball’s been thrown into his own court, he finds himself at a loss for words. He settles on a safe response, in case his hunch about Hanzo’s interest is wrong. He desperately hopes it isn’t, but they’ll have more time to talk about that later.

 

**Jesse McCree 14:15**

> Aw, you worried about me?

 

**Hanzo Shimada 14:18**

> You are supposed to take me out like a proper gentleman. You cannot accomplish that if you’re incapacitated.

 

**Jesse McCree 14:18**

> Naw, i’m fine sugar.

 

**Hanzo Shimada 14:19**

> More than that, it would seem.

 

Jesse gawks at his screen. So Hanzo went for the shot after all. Jesse still wants to play it safe, not get his hopes up too high, not until he knows more, but his heart races in his chest regardless. It’s part nerves and part thrill, and Jesse feels it in the delicious shiver that runs down his spine.

 

**Jesse McCree 14:22**

> Wouldn’t you like to know? ;)

 

A read response comes through, and the indicator alerts Jesse that Hanzo is typing, but it stops almost right away. Jesse strains to hear through the wall; a huff of laughter, a shuffle, anything to give him a hint of what Hanzo’s up to. He’s not surprised, though a little disappointed, to hear nothing at all. Then, the indicator lights up again.

 

**Hanzo Shimada 14:26**

> Whatever you choose to get up to, remember not to be late. And dress casually, cowboy. These might be the Prairies, but even here, you’ll stand out if you don’t show some restraint.

 

**Jesse McCree 14:27**

> Don’t you worry, i’ll be there on time, sweetness, dressed in my best library clothes.

 

There’s another alert on his phone almost right away, and Jesse’s equally relieved and disappointed to see that it’s Mei with the updated information he’d asked for. Well, play time’s over. For now.

* * *

Jesse does dress down for this. He might be committed to his aesthetic on most days, but he’s not an idiot, and he knows how to blend in when he wants to. He fishes out his casual wear, thanking his past self profusely for having thought to pack his dark grey button down. It’s a good, neutral look that suits a lot of occasions. If it also happens to be his most flattering shirt, hugging just right around the shoulders, well, that's just a happy coincidence.

He dresses quickly, spends a second shaking his hair out into some semblance of order and waffles about the hat for only a moment before he places it on his head. It’s the Prairies, dammit. No one’s going to bat an eye at his hat and boots.

Jesse knocks on Hanzo’s door at exactly a minute to, and when Hanzo opens the door, he takes his hat off to place it over his chest, all gentleman-like. Hanzo’s expression immediately flattens and he raises an eyebrow at Jesse.

“I see you’ve managed to contain yourself a little,” he says. It looks like he might have wanted to hide the smirk but decided against it.  

“It’s the least I could do. Closest diner to the library is a burger joint, ’m afraid, so I’ve let you down on quality a bit,” Jesse says with deep sigh and an air of regret. “It’s got decent reviews at least.”

“Hmm, we shall see about that. You could always make it up to me later, I suppose.”

The walk to the restaurant is filled with pleasant banter, and Jesse almost forgets about frantically jerking off in the shower, or the text conversation they shared after. It’s always been easy to talk with Hanzo, and despite how nervous he feels about the whole situation—and really, this shouldn’t even be a big deal, they’re just two agents watching each others’ backs while they scout for more information—he finds that it hasn’t changed. Acknowledging his feelings for Hanzo was easy, flirting seriously instead of as a friendly interaction has been easy, and he’s starting to think that even confessing might be easy too. Too risky, still, to do during a mission, but after? Jesse’s having fewer and fewer doubts about it. Maybe he won’t even need to get them both a little buzzed before.

Still, it doesn’t stop Jesse from testing the waters. At least with their going cover story—new couple having recently moved into town, exploring hobbies together—he could play it off as part of the act if things go south, and, heart racing, he dips a toe in.

“What if… what if you let me take you out to dinner for real some day, huh?” Jesse’s concentrating really hard on the sauce threatening to drip from his burger, trying to save his clothes from it, and definitely not avoiding eye contact.

“Is this not a real dinner?” Hanzo asks, cool as ever, but it’s earnest enough to send Jesse’s heart into a frenzy all over again. It does happen to be a good thing he’s focusing on the sauce because it’s about to drip onto his jeans and Jesse barely catches it with his thumb. He uses it as an excuse to stall a bit, licking his finger clean while he tries to wrangle his heart back. When he glances up, Hanzo’s staring at him wide-eyed, waiting for an answer with a complicated look on his face that Jesse can’t quite figure out. Jesse grins up at him and slowly releases his thumb from his lips.

“Naw, I can do better than this,” he says, gesturing at the fries soaking through the paper bag. “I could treat you to somewhere nice, somewhere worth your salt, instead of tasting like the primary ingredient is salt.”

Hanzo seems to snap to attention all at once, and gives Jesse an assessing stare, like he suddenly remembers that he has to contribute to the conversation too. Jesse has to cough after his next bite to cover for the chuckle that’s threatening to bubble out of his chest.

“And what kind of place is ‘worth my salt’?” Hanzo asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Maybe somewhere where they make you wear nice clothes. Real candles on the table or something, fancy wine, linen serviettes, that sort of thing.”

Hanzo studies him quietly for a long moment, and Jesse fixates on the far wall, too nervous to make eye contact, too worried about what he’ll see there.

“I don’t need to be seduced, you know. I’m happy to go anywhere with you.”

Jesse’s turns to look at Hanzo with surprise, and if his heart could just stop accelerating every time Hanzo comes out with something that sounds so honest, he could probably concentrate on putting his thoughts together more. He glances around, finds that there are quite a few people milling about: folks making their way home and stopping at the diner on the way, taking a walk to the nearby park. It’s plausible that Hanzo’s comment was part of the act, but there was something about his voice that has Jesse staring wide-eyed and his heart racing. Hanzo, who’s been looking at his wrap intently since he spoke, suddenly looks up to meet his eyes. There’s something there too, and Jesse’s heart aches to see it.

“Nah, it’s—” Jesse starts, and then waffles. How much further does he want to risk wading in before they actually talk about… whatever this is turning out to be? “It’s not about seduction,” he finally says. “Just wanna show you how much I appreciate you, ‘s all.”

Hanzo doesn’t answer, but his expression slowly turns mischievous.

“Hm, well, I can certainly think of better ways to accomplish that,” he says. “What time is the book club meeting?” he adds, before Jesse can process that.

“Oh shit, yeah, couple of minutes. We should probably start walking over,” Jesse says, checking the clock on the wall. A poster on the community board just under the clock catches his eye. _Recreational Park - Camping On Ghost River_ , it advertises. Jesse files that away for later, and finishes his burger in a hurry, collecting the trash they have and separating it into recyclables.

The walk to the library is short, but Jesse fills the silence anyway.

“Did you read tonight's feature?” he asks.

“Actually, I might have.”

“‘ _Backyard Birds: Gardening Tips and Decor Tricks to Attract Songbirds and Finches_ ’? Really?” Jesse can’t help the surprise. Based on Genji’s descriptions of their previous life, Jesse had thought they would have had servants who tended to their landscaping.

Hanzo chuckles and his eyes light up with a fond, albeit distant smile. “My father enjoyed gardening as a hobby when he could afford the time. He had a case full of books about gardening—he was very nostalgic about paper books,” he adds when Jesse raises his eyebrow with an incredulous smirk, “and tried to encourage Genji and me to take interest too. I wanted to impress him, so I read every book he had on the subject.”

“No shit. You should be able to blend in here pretty well then.”

Hanzo gives a dry bark of a laugh. “I don’t think I remember any of it,” he admits. “But I’m sure it won’t be a problem. We’re new in town; they’ll be more preoccupied by our move here than by our gardening expertise, I’m sure.”

Jesse concedes with a chuckle and slips inside the library after Hanzo.


End file.
